Let Me Love You When Your Heart Is Tired
by SereneCalamity
Summary: Stiles just wanted to make sure Derek was okay. Sterek. Oneshot.


**I just adore Sterek. They're so beautiful. And I love Stiles looking after Derek. Hope you guys enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own in the characters, and the title comes from _Tired _by Alan Walker. **

Sometimes Mieczyslaw Stilinski, better known as Stiles, wondered if he was doing enough.

He had a lot of love to give, he had maybe a little bit _too_ much love—at least that's what Cora Hale and Isaac Lahey told him, even though he knew that they secretly adored it. But sometimes he wasn't too good at _channeling_ that love. He kind of just...He kind of just let it all out there, smothered people in it, wasn't very good at knowing where that boundaries were, and hoped that the people he loved and showed that to knew that he meant the best.

Derek Hale hadn't always been the best with _receiving_ that love, but Stiles was nothing if not persistent.

Back when they were in high school, when they had first met, and Derek and Stiles were in completely different parts of their lives, and they had just continually rubbed each other the wrong way. But a bit of growing up on Stiles' behalf, and three years away at University, and a bit of chilling out on Derek's behalf—Cora, Allison Argent _and_ Lydia Martin had forced him into a hundred different relaxation techniques—they got on a lot better now.

In fact, they were kind of together.

Not..._Totally_.

There wasn't anything set in stone and they weren't Facebook official or anything—not that they ever could be, given Derek staunchly refused to get one—but there was...There was something.

Derek still got all snippy and shitty at times, and that extended to everyone, including the guy who was fucking him, and Stiles had gotten a lot better at helping him, but sometimes he didn't know how to approach when Derek got all prickly.

The red eyes and fangs didn't scare him anymore, but Derek had this cold, hard look that he would sometimes fix Stiles with and it made him feel about three feet tall. He knew that Derek didn't mean to make him feel crap, and that it was just a way to protect himself, but it made it harder to try and comfort him when he was in a bad way. Fortunately, it didn't happen so often anymore, but it was still something that they were going to have to talk about further down the track.

Now was one of those times that Stiles wondered if he should be doing more.

"Der?" Stiles pursed his lips together, glancing around the empty loft. The place was empty now, but it was an absolute tip. He knew for a fact that Derek must be exhausted or else he would be moving around the place, cleaning it up, because he hated when things were out of place. But he was just sitting at the breakfast bar, slumped forward, elbows resting on the bar and his head in his hands. Stiles walked over to the bar, hesitating behind Derek before reaching forward and resting a hand on his shoulder. He felt Derek tense up for a moment before letting out a strong exhale, shoulders slumping forward. "You should go shower," he said quietly. "I'll clean up here."

Derek didn't say anything, he just nodded and slid off the bar stool and walked quietly down the hallway. Stiles watched him go, wincing as he noted the blood stains on the mans shirt.

There had been vampires.

A _hell_ of a lot of vampires.

The Hale-McCall pack was strong, but they had their weaker links, and Stiles hated to admit it, but he was one of them, at least when it came to the physical side of things. Another one of the weaker links was Mason Hewitt, who was working as a nurse at the same hospital as Melissa McCall. Mason had been snatched coming out of work, when he was tired and weary after a twelve hour shift, and Melissa had been the one to ring Stiles when she had gone out of the hospital and into the parking lot and seen that Mason's car was still there.

Unfortunately, Stiles had been with Corey Bryant at the time, and he had just taken off when he had heard that his fiancé had been taken, without waiting for Derek to come up with a plan of attack.

The whole thing had been messy, and it had resulted in a lot of damage to the pack. Fortunately, if that word could be used, the damage had all been to the werewolves, and they could take it and survive, but it still cost them.

It especially cost Derek, who personally went around each of the members of the pack, draining their pain as they slowly healed. Scott McCall would usually help him, but Scott wasn't _there_, he and Kira Yukimura were on their honeymoon, and the whole pack had agreed not to bother the pair of them while they were away. They deserved a break.

So Stiles had watched Derek take on their pain.

Over and over again.

Draining them of the aches and bruises and slashes until their bodies finally started healing. And then even once they were healing, Derek kept going, because he hated seeing any of his pack in pain. Mason hadn't been hurt, and he had been babbling away, feeling terrible at putting everyone in this position, and surprisingly, it had been Stiles who had actually told him when to be quiet.

Usually the pair of them were the nosiest ones _together_.

They had all left about half an hour ago, just before the sun began peaking over the horizon in the distance, and the place was a complete mess with bloody clothes and food scraps and empty glasses of water from when they were trying to get their energy levels back up.

Stiles wasn't sure how long he tidied for, but when he looked back up, wiping a hand over his sweaty forehead, the sun was flooding golden light across the land, and so it was probably around six-thirty in the morning.

The shower was no longer running.

The loft was as tidy as it was going to get for now, Stiles decided, especially since his body felt heavy and tired, and he just wanted to check on his sometimes-lover. He stripped off the red hoodie that he was wearing and dumped it on the kitchen bench before going to find Derek. The older man had a towel wrapped a round his waist, his wet hair sticking to his forehead, his hands braced against the vanity unit, eyes on the specks of blood that were in the sink. He had stopped bleeding a long time ago, so it must have just been dried blood in his hair or fingernails or somewhere that he had gotten to when he was out of the shower.

"Come to bed, Der," Stiles' voice was quiet.

Derek didn't move. Stiles moved into the small bathroom, crowding into Derek's space, reaching out and resting on Derek's arm.

"Come on, Derek," Stiles repeated softly. He could feel Derek tense under his touch, but he didn't pull away, so Stiles dropped his fingers further down, to Derek's wrist, and gave it a tug. Derek was hesitant and his movements were slow, but he finally let Stiles pull him out of the bathroom. He took him back into the main room of the loft, and toward the far corner that was tucked away, behind a few couches and bookshelves, and gently pushed him toward the bed. Derek didn't bother changing into clothes, his body obviously tired and heavy, and he just tugged off the towel, let it fall to the ground and then face-planted on the bed. Stiles couldn't help but let his eyes trail downward, over Derek's muscled back, over the tattoo, down to his ass, which was gorgeous and round and sent all kinds of thoughts through Stiles' head.

_Most_ of which Stiles had already had the pleasure of doing.

"Roll over," Stiles murmured, trying to tug the blanket out from underneath Derek's body. He wasn't particularly helpful, barely moving, but Stiles eventually managed to get it out. He undressed, down to his briefs, and then climbed into bed next to Derek.

Sometimes Derek liked to cuddle, other times he really didn't.

After fights and times when his pack was injured, he usually liked cuddles, he was usually all about bodily contact, but right now, he was on the far side of the bed, head buried in the pillow. Stiles stayed where he was, taking in a deep breath through his nose and letting it out through his mouth, and closed his eyes. The sun was beginning to shine through the windows, and it was warm on Stiles' body, and even though it might usually keep him awake, he had gotten used to having a bit of an odd sleeping schedule. He was just starting to fall asleep when Derek's hand reached out and pressed against his.

"Thank you," Derek's voice was muffled in the pillow. Stiles' eyes shot open, his body _completely_ alert at the comment, and his head jerked in Derek's direction.

"_What_?" He gasped out and Derek only made a muffled noise into the pillow, but Stiles could imagine that he was rolling his eyes. Or that he would be rolling his eyes if he had the energy to do it. "Did you just say_ thank you_?" Stiles wasn't going to let it go, even if it was clear that Derek was more than ready to sleep. Stiles squeezed Derek's fingers a couple of times. _More_ than a couple of times.

He kept on squeezing until Derek let out a huff and turned his head so he was facing Stiles, who was grinning widely at him, wiggling his eyebrows in a way that made him look like the cheeky sixteen year old he had been when Derek had first met him.

"_Thank you_," Derek drawled out, but then he took in a deep breath and Stiles saw a more serious look settle in his eyes. "Thank you for looking out for all of us. Thank you for cleaning up here. Thank you...For staying here with me._ Thank you_." Stiles' heart felt so full in his chest, and all the doubts that he was having earlier about not doing enough, about not _being_ enough, they were all gone. He swallowed hard, the smile and silly expression gone from his face as he met Derek's eyes.

"You never have to thank me, even if I tease you about it," Stiles murmured before leaning forward, their mouths brushing together briefly. When he pulled back, Derek's face was soft, and his lips curved in a small, infrequent smile. Then he was turning over, shuffling backwards until he was pressed right up against Stiles, wiggling around a little purposefully. Stiles bit down on his lower lip at Derek's adorableness, and he hitched up his legs so that they were pressed against the back of Derek's, wrapping an arm around his waist and holding him tight in a spooning position. He nuzzled his face in close against the back of Derek's neck.

They _did_ have a lot to talk about.

But this felt like a step forward.

Stiles fell fast asleep, Derek in his arms, and the sun warming them both.

**Let me know what you think x**


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